The Invaders were winging their way

across the sky above the silence of the

lake; the wind began bracing-up, found

itself accelerating – opened the gait.

The galloping ghosts near the heavens

behaved with un-gratuitous folly; they

rode the wind, moving along as-if on

horizontal ladders, rung after rung.

Their onslaught going unnoticed except

by over-imaginative UFO watchers; who

in double-time created another blog on

their laptops – signing-off with an alias.

Still, it was the wind that delegated

their speed; but these darkened shadows

were on a mission – just like the dreams

that visit you during your Rem sleep.

As the Invaders began to pick-up their

forward motion, courtesy an obliging

wind, they set their sights on a land

where the skies aren’t cloudy all day.

They had never seen such a place and

their intent was to dampen their spirits

Add insult to injury so-to-speak – the

injury being another dust bowl.

Came from over-developing the land

No more buffalo roaming; no deer and

antelope playing – now trophies on walls

All went the way of the Carrier pigeon.

Now, no more than echoes – their fate is

the common fate of all; it fastens itself to

the living and the non-living; taking a

shape that is familiar; we begrudge it.

The only hope we have is to spurn its’

presence, as we do the Invaders – pray

that all will pass and a bright new day

will follow; quick bright as to warm.

‘2009’ RLS